


Family Don't End In Blood

by marvelandimagine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Orphans, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelandimagine/pseuds/marvelandimagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is an orphaned, elemental teenager who was tortured and brainwashed with Bucky and the two escape together and stay together in Bucharest. They both look at each other as family, and the strength of their bond grows even deeper when the reader finally breaks down about her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Don't End In Blood

You walk through the door to your apartment, your toned biceps still straining under the weight of what seems like a million grocery bags, but you’re humming happily.

Normally, you’d be bitching to Bucky about him making you go on a run – “Buck, for fuck’s sake, you have a metal arm; why do I need to be the one to carry 50 lbs of plums?! – grumbling under your breath as he bleated on about “avoiding suspicion” and “not becoming recognizable,” but you’d begrudgingly admit that his logic made sense.

But that didn’t stop you from wanting a life, a real life. Not having to be holed up in an apartment with the windows covered. To be able to go to college like you always dreamed of. To get back to a sense of normalcy, a sense of what you had before HYDRA shattered your whole fucking life – before they turned you into a monster.

But here you stand in an unusually good mood, smiling and singing to yourself as you start to put away groceries into your small fridge.

You giggle as you twirl away, grabbing two grocery bags as you spin around the sparse table, putting Bucky’s beloved plums out where he would see them when he got home. It was always a better day for Bucky – and you, by extension – when he had his plums.

For you, it was apples – you placed your favorite fruit next to Bucky’s stash. They reminded you of growing up in Prague with your parents and little sister; of picnics atop Petrin Hill where your eyes would grow wide looking out in awe at what seemed to be the entire world spread out in front of you in a blanket of reds, yellows and oranges; the titillating scent of fresh orchard apples and brewing beer wafting across the valley. You crossed your heart and promised you’d never, ever leave, because who could ever leave something so beautiful?

But you broke that promise, making a new one to return to your home someday. But you were smart enough to know that you couldn’t go back now, not while HYDRA was still looking for you, anyways.

You push aside the past and return to the present, starting to twirl back the other way, eyes closed dazedly with a dreamy smile on your face.

“Can I ask for your name, dragoste?”

Your face floods with color at his sexy Romanian drawl; his striking jawline lined with stubble – he’s at least a few years older than you. His hazel eyes sparkle jovially, his smile warm and absolutely intoxicating. And his lips, god, they were perfect, so perfect, perfect enough to fit perfectly on yours…

You snap out of your daydream, trying to keep your cool as you clear your throat. “Y/N, I’m Y/N,” you stammer, darkly noting that at least HYDRA gave you the skill to speak this incredibly attractive boy’s language.

Mystery boy makes a contented sound in the back of his throat, suddenly clasping your dangling hand in his.

“Y/N. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Those perfect lips brush against the back of your palm and oh man, you’ve been in plenty of life or death situations before, but never before have you felt adrenaline like this.

“You’re sweet,” you murmur shyly. Shyly? Since when have you been shy? How many grown ass men have you killed?

You push the thoughts away as the boy reaches into the pocket of his dark jeans, pulling out a sleek iPhone.

“Can I have your number? I’d love to see you again, take you around the city.”

“Yeah, of course, as long as I get yours,” you reply coyly, mentally congratulating yourself on your smoothness.

The boy smiles, running a hand through his artfully disheveled locks as you trade devices.

“I will text you later, yes? It was wonderful to meet you, Y/N.

“You too, Sebastian.”

Your body tingles happily at the recent memory and you smile slightly to yourself – a boy, a real, human, actually attractive boy, hit on you today. And you got his number! Maybe you had a chance for a real life after all.

You blink your eyes open, ready to put away the carton of orange juice in your hand, but drop it in surprise with a yelp as you’re met with another pair of striking eyes – but these ones are blue.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky, we need to get you a bell or something,” you say with a laugh, comically clutching at your heart.

The older man doesn’t look as amused – he looks more suspicious than anything. You hastily rearrange your features into the most innocent expression you could muster.

“What?” You ask indignantly, quickly turning your back to him as you go to grab the other food from the counter.

Bucky rounds the corner first, stepping directly in front of you, his eyes squinting slightly as he tilts his head to the side. You mimic him and you both smile, you gently nudging him out of the way as you grab a box of pasta, turning to the stove.

“Thought I’d surprise you with dinner but I guess the surprise is over. I even got pesto and garlic bread and everything, it’s gonna be some five star culinary shit, Barnes,” you say lightly, trying to keep your voice as casual as ever while your mind keeps flashing back to the market. To Sebastian. But there’s no way in hell, Bucky can know; he’d lose his goddamn, overprotective –

Bucky chuckles quietly and you feel yourself start to relax; if there’s one thing HYDRA conditioned you to do, it was how to bury emotion. Or so you thought.

Bucky plants a chaste kiss on the top of your head and you smile tenderly – he really has become like family to you since the two of you fled HYDRA together. The older brother you never had.

“Good, I’m starving.”

Despite his own light tone, Bucky still feels as if you’re hiding something. Hell, HYDRA gave him a sixth sense for that in training. You don’t necessarily look different, but there’s something about you that is undeniably different – it’s like your whole presence is lighter, happier. You seem free.

Bucky drops down on your left side suddenly so that his face is level with your own, determined to find out what’s put his essentially adopted little sister in such a drastically noticeable good mood.

“What’re you doing, Buck?” you murmur in sing song, your gaze purposefully glued to the stove top as you light the flame; jaw clenching slightly as you try to keep your cool. You may be a pro at reading people, but so is Bucky.

“Wondering why you’re so smiley today. You’re like a whole different person,” he says truthfully, and fuck, there it is, heat starts radiating through your face as the corner of your mouth twitches upward into an involuntary smile.

Why didn’t HYDRA ever have you train with cute boys? You wouldn’t be in this predicament now, you’d know how to push it down, to stop feeling like you could float away at the mere thought of Sebastian, how he called you beautiful ….

“Am not,” you mumble unconvincingly and Bucky lets out a triumphant laugh, his normal hand patting your now red cheek.

“I beg to differ, kiddo.”

You groan and cover your face, peeking out between your fingers as Bucky swings one of the two chairs in the apartment next to you, straddling it as he runs a hand through his brown hair and gazing up at you.

“C’mon, I wanna know what happened today! It’s good to see you smiling, Y/N,” he says sincerely.

You sigh, biting your lip at the genuine interest and contentedness on his own face. He really was happy to see you happy. You hate keeping anything from Bucky, but you know he’s going to lose his shit about this. You both know how dangerous it is to actually talk to strangers – how can you possibly know who to trust?

And how are you supposed to explain having a stupid crush to one of the men you worked with, fought with, killed with? You both risked your lives to get out, and now, here you were, potentially risking it all for a boy. He’d never understand, and now that you really think about it, you realize how selfish and impractical you’re being. You don’t get to go out with cute boys. That’s someone else’s life, not your own. To think anything else is just a dream.

You blink pressing tears back quickly and Bucky’s face falls, immediately registering the change in emotion.

“It’s nothing, Buck, really, it’s stupid, I -”

“No it’s not, I walked in and hell, you were dancing around here, Y/N! Whatever it was can’t be stupid, c’mon,” he presses.

You grasp at the counter, white-knuckled, as the emotion in your chest builds – a swirling torrent of rage and sadness and loneliness; pain, so much pain.

You close your eyes, still fighting to keep stinging, bitter tears from coming out. You hear the water starting to rush out from the faucet, feel the pipes underneath start to shake and suddenly you feel Bucky’s hand gripping your shoulder.

“Y/N, hey, you’re ok, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m never going to make you do anything you don’t want to, ok?” His voice is steady but you can sense the underlying hurt underneath.

You take a deep breath and the rattling stops, the roar of the faucet slowly fading to a quiet drip. You turn to him slowly and it takes all that you have to not burst into tears at the sight of the lines of worry etched on his handsome face.

“I do, Bucky, I want to tell you, but it’s stupid, I shouldn’t have even been happy, I’m stupid and selfish and just forget it.”

“What? Y/N, wait, slow down.”

Bucky catches your wrist as you move to walk away, but before you can retort, your phone pings cheerfully on the counter top.

Both of your heads snap to look in unison. Your heart starts to pound and there it is, that delightful, dizzying sensation – Bucky’s the only other person who has your number, so you know who it is.

Slow, dawning comprehension falls on Bucky’s face as he looks from the phone and back to you, caught and frozen in place.

“Are you … is someone texting you?”

You look back guiltily at Bucky and that’s all the confirmation he needs.

You both lunge for the phone but you have an advantage; swiping the device off the counter as Bucky swears loudly, his metal arm now frozen to the fridge handle by a quick flick of your wrist.

“Goddammit, Y/N,” he hisses, yanking at his arm.

You know you’ve only got seconds before the super soldier busts out and tackles your ass to the ground to figure out who’s texting you, so you quickly swipe right, eyes dancing across the screen.

“Hey, dragoste, it’s Sebastian. I really would love to take you out sometime if you’re interested, you are very sweet and very cute. Let me know when you’re free :)”

A date. You just got asked out on a date. A date that there’s no way you can say yes to without endangering you, endangering Bucky. Endangering what little security and freedom you’ve scratched and clawed and fought your way for – that you’ve both fought for, together.

You don’t even resist as Bucky predictably tackles you onto your shared air mattress – you both feel better sleeping close to each other, especially when the nightmares come – letting the phone drop from your hand as you shimmy out from underneath him.

Before he can even read it, you break down.

“I MET A BOY, OK?!”

You scream, chest starting to heave in panic as the faucet and pipes underneath finally come undone, sending out jets of water that ricochet and spray across the room, showering you and Bucky until you force yourself to gain control, gritting your teeth as you pull your fists inward; the streams of water stopping and returning to its rightful place.

You cross your arms as your breathing starts to speed up, your anxiety pulsing through your veins and sending your nails digging into your arms that are now glistening with droplets of water.

Bucky stands up, shaking his wet hair out of his now wide eyes as he crosses the room to stand right in front of you, his metal arm surprisingly gentle as he pries your arms uncrossed, both of his hands running consolingly over the inflamed parts of your skin.

“Y/N, what happened?”

You jerk yourself away from him, pacing around the room as the words spill out of you without restraint, without slowing down.

“I met a boy. In the market. I bumped into him or he bumped into me, I don’t know, but he apologized and we just started talking, like normal fucking people, and he was just so nice and so cute and I gave him my fucking name and my number because I’m fucking 18 and I’m lonely as shit and it fucking hit me when you asked me that I was being selfish and that even talking to this kid could’ve fucked us over and it would’ve been all my fault and then he fucking texts me and asks me out, like he wants to see me, me, Bucky, but I know I can’t go because that’s not my life!”

The tears have started to fall now, hard and fast, but you can’t stop the words from pouring out. You give a wild laugh and turn away from him, but first, through your blurry vision you can see Bucky blinking rapidly, his blue eyes brighter than usual, looking utterly helpless.

You don’t know it, but Bucky feels like his heart is being torn to pieces. He had never even really thought about how young you were, how much HYDRA really robbed you of – you had always acted so much older, even when you weren’t under their control. You had suffered through so much and the pain made you older, wiser. But that didn’t change the fact that there were so many things you had still yet to experience, things humans need to experience. While kids your age were off flirting and fucking and falling in and out of love – all things Bucky himself remembered doing – you were orphaned, friendless except for one ex-assassin who was 81 years older than you, dealing with PTSD and watching almost everyone around you laugh and love and lead fairly normal lives.

“It’ll never be my life, and I was a stupid fucking kid for thinking so, I fucking forgot that HYDRA took my fucking life and burned it to ashes like they burned my town, like how they burned my parents and my sister.”

Your voice is straining, hard and tortured, almost incomprehensible to you through the pain and sobs, but Bucky hears every syllable loud and clear.

“And you’ve helped me so much … and now you’re my family, and I almost just fucking lost everything for us because I can’t get my shit together and stop whining like a stupid bitch because I’ve never had a first kiss … when I should just be fucking thankful that I’m not dead … that you’re not dead and that you helped give me some semblance of a life and I’m not still killing people or getting wiped or washing blood off of you or me and I’m …. so …. sorry … Bucky, I’m so-”

You feel Bucky’s metal arm wrap tightly around your body, as you wrap yours around him instinctively, desperately clinging to the soft fabric of his Henley; his tangible presence, the only source of real solace and companionship you have.

Bucky’s other hand clutches your head to his chest as he strokes your wet hair, holding you even closer as your convulsing sobs turn into near silent screams of anguish against him; paroxysms of shaking grief and rage and helplessness.

You may be able to control water, but right now, you are drowning.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s ok. Let it out, I’ve got you. But you have nothing to apologize for, OK?” Bucky says thickly, his eyes flickering up to the ceiling as he fights back his own tears.

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for wanting a life, a real life.” He smiles sadly.

“Of wanting to spend time with someone else other than a 99-year-old ex-assassin who just wants to eat plums, pet some dogs and call it a day.”

You shake your head against Bucky’s chest. “Stop, you’re the best elderly, big bro of a roomie a girl could have,” you muffle into his chest, squeezing him tighter and he sighs affectionately. You really are the sweetest thing; you deserve so much more than what’s been given to you.

You pull back with a deep exhale after a few more minutes, after your throat feels raw from the screams and the sobs finally subside. You rub at your eyes with your fists; the image allowing Bucky to finally see the vestiges of the innocent 13-year-old that HYDRA took five years ago.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck,” you sniffle with a sad laugh, drawing your hands down your face wearily. “That was rough.”

Bucky sits down on the air mattress, gently tugging you down with him and sighing as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Buck.” you say quietly.

“It’s nothing. I’m always here, OK? I promise. Like you said, we’re family now.”

You close your eyes as Bucky rubs a hand on your back, blinking back grateful tears this time.

”Hey Buck?”

”Mmhm?”

”Something I think about a lot was that I never told my family how much I loved them enough before they were gone,” you say slowly fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t wanna make that mistake again. You’ve done so much for me and I couldn’t have made it this far without you. I owe you basically everything.”

You take a deep breath.

“You’re a pain in my ass sometimes, Barnes, but I love you,” you say quietly.

Bucky practically melts at your words, the simple innocence and goodness in them. He pulls you into an excessively tight hug, laughing as you swear at him and planting a chaste kiss of your forehead.

“I love you too, kiddo. Best adopted little sister ever,” he says warmly.

“You’re damn right I am.”

Bucky chuckles as a small smile creeps onto your tired face.

“Speaking of being there for each other, I would actually love it if you came to me with love problems. God, I’d have so much fun taking you shopping for clothes for a date.”

”Jesus Christ, never, that’d be a nightmare,” Bucky groans, smiling as the playful light returns back to your red eyes as you shove him.

“Hey, I resent that! Who was the one who picked up those GORGEOUS motorcycle boots for you? Goddamn Tuscan leather and everything?”

”You,” Bucky sighs, standing up and extending a hand to help you to your feet. He twirls you around suddenly and you give him a bewildered look.

”But I think you’ll be the one we take shopping for new clothes.”

You look at Bucky confusedly and he smiles softly with another deep sigh.

”I mean, you’re trained in character assessment and knowing when people are lying, and I’ve had even more practice than you. So, on the condition that we thoroughly, THOROUGHLY, background research this kid online and I meet this motherfucker beforehand and deem him worthy enough to take you out, then I think we can give him clearance for at least one night.”

Bucky smiles happily as your entire face lights up and you shriek; he winces slightly at the sound but you don’t even care.

”Oh my god, Bucky are you sure?! You’d be ok with this?”

”I think that between the two of us, we can come up with a good enough backstory for him to buy.” Bucky runs a hand anxiously through his hair. “And honestly, if he’s anything like I was at 19, he’s going to be too busy staring to be doing a lot of listening.”

You grin sheepishly and Bucky narrows his eyes.”What?””Well, you know, it’s just, uh, he’s not 18. He’s … 20.”

”HE’S WHAT?!” Bucky sputters as you hold your hands up defensively.

”You said you were on board, age shouldn’t change that!! I mean, you’re 99!! C’mon I’ll let you intimidate the shit out of him, just PLEASEEEE help me to make me seem normal for one night,” you plead, jutting out your lower lip and clasping your hands together.

“Goddammit, fine! But I will be talking to him separately first,” Bucky says darkly, a wicked grin growing across his face.

You fear the worst and you’re right to.

“Bucky, I am so, so thrilled that you are going to help me with this. But please, for the love of all things good in this world, do not talk to this poor boy about sex.”

Bucky’s eyes glint as he rests his elbows on the counter, chin in hands as he smiles wide at your dramatically grimacing countenance.

“Oh, you can absolutely bet I will be talking to this poor boy about sex.”

You let out a wailing noise, falling face first onto your air mattress as Bucky starts to genuinely laugh.

“You’re the worst,” you muffle out from your mattress, but Bucky knows you well enough to know you’re still smiling.

He is as well as he moves to the counter, your words about family still ringing in his head.

“Love you too. Now c’mon, someone promised me pasta.”

You roll onto your back and flip onto your feet easily, scooping your phone up and sending a reply:

“Hey! You’re very sweet – I’d love to come out with you and I’m free whenever this week, but my older brother wants to meet you first, if you don’t mind. My parents died when I was a kid so he’s extra protective, but I’ll make sure he’s extra nice haha.”

You get a response almost immediately and your heart soars:

“Oh, I’m so sorry, and yeah that’s fine, no worries. Would you want to go out Friday?”

“Y/N?”

You look up from your phone to see Bucky waving a hand in front of you and you smile dazedly.

“Uh, sorry, I was texting Sebastian. He’s good to meet you.”

“Sebastian?” Bucky grumbles, turning his attention to the bag of ingredients you bought for dinner. “What kind of pretentious name is that?”

“What kind of name is Bucky?” You fire back teasingly, quickly grabbing the pasta and spices from him.

“No, no, no, I told you I got this. Besides, remember the last time you tried to cook? I was Febrezing smoke out of here for days.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Bucky grumbles, but he turns his attention to slicing bread nonetheless.

You smile to yourself as you watch him out of the corner of your eye, pulling his shaggy hair back into a loose knot as he starts to slice up the bread, an expression of simple contentment on his normally strained face.

You and Bucky really were interconnected, constantly attuned to each other in a way that you would never be like with anyone else – not even Sebastian or any other person you’d ever meet.

And even if your date didn’t go so well, you took solace in knowing that at least you’d still have Bucky there to have your back; to let you spar and get out all your anger and then let you fall asleep on him while you both watched Game of Thrones on his stolen laptop. As long as you had Bucky, you would have family, and you’d have love.


End file.
